


Fire and Flame

by happydaygirl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childhood Abuse, burning of sandor, evil gregor, hurt!sandor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:38:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happydaygirl/pseuds/happydaygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Sandor got the scars running down the side of his face. Warning for violence against a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Flame

The rain lashed down onto the keep, the thunder deafening from the huge storm cloud billowing above. The world was desolate, empty from life in the midst of the winter storm-but inside it was warm, the smell of roasting pig drifting from the kitchen into the small hall where Sandor liked to play by the fire.  
The room was chilly, so the four year old was close to the hearth, laying on his front on the rug, moving his horse and rider up and down, making noises as he went. His dark hair kept falling into his face, causing the little boy to jolt his head up every so often to get it out of the way.  
The man on the top held onto the reigns well as Sandor clip-clopped it up the floor, the young boy’s wide brown eyes shining as he battled the dragon that had taken the princess captive.  
‘You’ll never keep her.....’ he muttered, making the horse charge into the air, the animal darting forwards to hit the imaginary dragon again and again before it finally succumbed, flailing to the floor with a long, high pitched growl.  
Sandor chuckled softly to himself as he made the horse prance up and down, before he stopped, stumped. His horse didn’t really have a big enough rider to meet the fair princess. She needed a full length solider to rescue her properly, not a tiny one stuck to a horse.  
He sat up, looking around. All his other toys were in his room, and he didn’t have any big enough for what he wanted. He finally spied a big enough soldier on the other side of the room.  
He stood up, his bare feet slapping on the hard, cold stone beyond the carpet. He walked to the soldier and snatched it up, grinning, delighted as he made his way back to the princess. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.  
He held the solider aloft, using a deep, heroic voice to talk to the princess.  
Suddenly, the door banged open, and the cold and rain swept in, following a dark figure who stamped into the room.  
‘Hey Gregor, look what I got! I saved the pwincess!’ Sandor grinned, standing up and reaching to take his brother to see what he had done. Gregor swiped his brother’s hand away, but followed all the same. His brother could be so annoying sometimes.  
The older boy’s eyes scanned the scene. The horse was neatly placed on the floor, yet he could see no princess. His gaze finally settled on something else, something Sandor had in his hands.  
Sandor knew something was wrong when his brother looked up. Something was shining in his eyes that Sandor had never seen before. Maybe he was just happy. He smiled nervously up, brushing hair out of his eyes once more.  
‘See, I’m going to use the big man to take the pwincess away-you want to help?’ he asked, his eyes wide.  
Gregor breathed in. ‘Whose is that?’ he asked, ice in his voice.  
‘W-what?’ Sandor replied, backing away. His brother wasn’t happy, he could see that now. He hated it when Gregor got like this. He wouldn’t speak to him for days, and only push him around.  
‘That toy solider. Whose is it?’ Gregor’s voice was calm, and that scared Sandor more than anything- he didn’t get loud when he was angry, he turned quiet, like he was about to explode at any time.  
‘I-I don’t know.....I just found it.....’ Sandor said, looking down in horror at the solider…with a horrible jolt in his stomach he suddenly realised that in the darkness he had mistaken it for his toy- it wasn’t…. He dropped it just as Gregor turned bodily around, an ugly sneer on his face. ‘It’s mine!’ he yelled, his eyes black with fury.  
The little boy ran. Ran as fast as he could, but it was never fast enough. He yelped and whimpered desperately as Gregor pulled him to his chest, his legs flailing.  
‘Let me go! I’ll ask next time I promise!’ he begged, trying to bat him away with his hands.  
‘There won’t be a next time!’ Gregor yelled, spit flying into his face as he wrenched them both around, back towards the flames in the hearth. ‘No, don’t…..please!’ Sandor screamed, the little boy kicking his legs fruitlessly against his brother, against the floor, anything to stop his brother surging closer to the heat. Gregor threw him on the floor before kneeling on his chest, causing him to cry out in pain and panic as the air shot out of him. ‘Pwease!’ he garbled, tears erupting in his eyes as his heart thudded in fear.  
‘I’ll teach you to take my toys! His brother growled, before getting off his little brother, holding him tightly as he thrashed around. He angled around, taking his brother with him- as little Sandor screamed in his ears, hands scrabbling at his face, he pushed him down….and into the fire.  
The screamed echoed around the keep, with the thunder growling overhead as well. Sandor smiled as his brother squealed and cried in agony, before he heard the new thundering of boots outside the door.  
As his Father crashed open the door Gregor pulled his brother up, fixing a worried expression on his face as he turned his brother around and hugged him; his limp form melded to his body as his smouldering face fell onto his shoulder.  
Their mother’s scream filled the room as she took him from his arms, cradling the quiet, whimpering boy as he lay in her grasp. ‘Sandor tripped playing with his toys, mama!’ Gregor lied, standing up with a worried look on his face, wiping tears from his eyes.  
‘I took him out but it was too late!’ he cried, turning to his father, who put a shaking hand on his shoulder.  
Their Mother ran from the room, shouting to the healer to come quickly, for anyone to save her baby. Their father put his head in his hands as he sunk into a chair, before also turning and dashing from the room as his wife screamed his name.  
This left Gregor to stand alone by the fire, a peculiar smell drifting from the flames. As the door slowly closed behind their father, a smile spread across the boy’s face, before he supressed a laugh and walked from the room to his own chambers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please comment!


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